Moved on
by frankenfeels
Summary: Sequel to "Moving to Another House". Molly Hopper continues to attempt to move on with her life a year after 'The Great Game'.
1. Chapter 1

After Detective Inspector Lestrade had attempted to tell Molly that Jim from IT was really a criminal mastermind and was just with her to get close to Sherlock—Sergeant Donovan, after Lestrade had tried three times to tell Molly, rolled her eyes and brutally told her that Jim was actually Moriarty, a criminal mastermind, and wasn't interested in her at all—and after the police had flipped her flat inside out, searching for any clues that would led to the capture of James Moriarty, the world's only 'Consulting Criminal', Molly went into a fit of rage, making her already messy flat even messier and scaring her cat, Toby, to dive under her couch.

After Molly had been screaming and tearing her flat apart for ten minutes, she noticed that Toby was cowing under the couch in fear. She breathed in deeply and heavily, staring in Toby's direction, feathers from her pillows floating all around her, tears brimming to rupture. She got down on her knees and tried to coax Toby from his hiding place. "C'mon, c'mon", she gently, stammered out, waving her arm to grab Toby. She did this for a few minutes before she stood up and gently slapped her thighs, "Fine, stay under there", she said harshly. "I don't need you."

After she woke up at ten the next morning (waking up quite a few times during the night with a feeling that somebody was watching her, a red dot was on her, or somebody was in the room), she found that she had a lot of messages on her answerphone, more messages than she ever, _ever _had. Five were from her parents in Manchester (apparently, Lestrade had called them, she later learned), one was from her brother in the Himalayas (how did he get a phone?), three were from Lestrade, two were from Sarah, two were from her friend, Meena, a call from her other friend, Caroline, a call from her sister-in-law, Becky, and a call from the St. Bart's. Sixteen in total. She got some tea, kicking feathers as she went back and forth from the kitchen. She hadn't seen Toby yet; he was probably still under the coach.

After she drank almost two cups of tea, she decided that she might-as-well listen to her messages. As she slowly inched her finger toward the "play" button, her phone rang. She quickly answered it, "Hello?" she said in a trembling, quiet tone.

"Dr. Hopper, I presume?" a cold, formal male voice asked. "I'm Mycroft Holmes; Sherlock's brother."

"Oh gawd", Molly gasped, her hand over her mouth in shock, "What happened to him?"

"He and Dr. Watson were involved in an explosion with Mr. Moriarty last night."

"Are they fine?" Molly stammered out.

"Yes, yes", Mycroft said in bored tone, "Sherlock and Watson were able to jump in the pool at the last moment, quite anti-climatic I say. Moriarty, on the other hand"...he paused as Molly held in breath in distress..."we're not entirely sure what happened to him." Tears began to form on Molly's eyes as she bit her lip to control herself. "But, we see that he lost a lot of blood and then the trail ends there."

"Well", Molly stuttered out, "th...thanks for telling me, ah, Mr. Holmes", tears poured down her cheeks, "I...I need to go now...thanks again." Molly slammed down her phone before Mycroft could respond. She then glanced towards the blinking sixteen next to her hand. "How bad could it be?" she murmured as she pressed 'play'.

"Hi, Molly, dear", her mother's voice played from the answerphone, "I'm so sorry about what happened, but maybe if you had brought him over to meet us then"...Molly quickly squashed the 'delete' button. The next message was from her brother, Steve, "Molly, mom called, hysterical out of her mind, and, frankly, so am I. Please call her so that mom, dad, Mark, Becky, an"—

"Blah, blah, blah", Molly muttered as she pressed 'delete' again. Two more messages played (from her mother, again, and from Lestrade) before she went to take a shower with the answerphone still playing. She finished her business in the shower in ten minutes, but stayed in the shower for another thirty minutes, barely hearing the messages. As she got out of the shower, she caught the end of the call from the hospital ..."at which we are ordering you to take a mandatory leave for a week"...

"Ah, great", Molly muttered to herself as she flipped her head and wrung her hair out, "that's just great."


	2. Chapter 2

**One year, two months, and one week later**

"Look what I got in the mail", John causally said to Sherlock as he plopped an envelope on the coffee table and as he strolled to the kitchen to make some tea. Sherlock was in one of his moods, wrapped in his blue silk robe, lying, silently, on the couch, facing the wall.

Sherlock slowly turned to his other side to see what John got. It read in fancy, blue calligraphy:

_MOLLY HOPPER AND ALEXANDER OLIVERSSON REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY AT THE CELEBRATION OF THEIR UNION _

_SATURDAY, THE TWENTY-EIGHTH OF AUGUST TWO THOUSAND AND ELEVEN_

_HALF PAST THREE O__'CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON_

_THE QUEEN'S GARDEN_

_KEW GARDENS_

_LONDON, ENGLAND_

_RECEPTION TO FOLLOW_

"So, what?" Sherlock asked in a bored tone, facing the wall again.

"So?" John said as he closed a cabinet and came back in the living room, "You were in your pajamas for three days after Molly left and now, a year later, she's getting married."

Sherlock loudly sighed and droned, "I was in my pajamas for three days because I thought Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings' case would be interesting and it wasn't. Just a simple case of tetanus."

John sighed as he sat down with his tea, "Did you get one? An invitation?"

Sherlock turned back and glanced quickly around the flat, "Hm, I don't see one."

"Well", John said as he adjusted in his chair, "Sarah got one as well."

"Must got lost in the mail or something", Sherlock muttered.

"Yeah", John said, laughter creeping into his voice and with a smug grin plastered on his face, and "that must be it."

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock asked gazing at John in the corner of his eyes.

"Oh, nothing, nothing", John said as he stood up to clean out his cup. A chuckle escapes from his lips.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, sitting up.

"Nothing", John said as he put his cup back in the cabinet, "I just remembered a joke someone told me at the hospital today."

Sherlock nodded slowly in doubt, "Aren't you nervous?"

"About what?" John asked as he sat back down.

"That Sarah will start talking about marriage and"—Sherlock waved his hands—"'where is this relationship going?'"

"No, no, no", John stuttered out, and then paused, and quickly asked, "Why do you ask?"

"I saw something on the telly about it. A guy was nervous that his girlfriend was going to start talking about marriage after receiving a wedding invitation."

"Oh, well, Sarah's not like that. I haven't heard anything of that nature."

"Sure, alright."


	3. Chapter 3

On August the twenty-fourth—four days before the wedding—Sherlock had still not receive an invitation to the wedding. While at a crime scene at the docks, Lestrade, nonchalantly, mentioned Molly's wedding, saying that he got an invite to her wedding, also asking Sherlock and John if they got one.

"This isn't proper talk for a crime scene", Sherlock said, examining the dead man with a bullet wound through the heart. He motioned to the man and said, "There's a dead man here."

"Oh, this coming from a man who once complained about his dry cleaner messing up his clothes while a naked man was lying face down in dirt", Lestrade said to John.

"Well, I don't think that chatter about a wedding is very appropriate."

"He didn't get an invitation", John muttered to a nodding Lestrade, who now understood, and then said loudly, "and he's been a real crab since I got mine earlier in the month."

Sherlock stood up and snapped off his latex gloves, "Shall I leave you ladies alone or are we going to discuss the body?"

Lestrade sighed and said, "What you got?"

"Not much", he said, flatly. "He was poisoned, he's a bank teller, and he had to take the train to work." Sherlock then motioned to John, "C'mon John, we've got to see a man about a dog."

* * *

"Are you sure you're not mad?" John carefully asked Sherlock in the taxi.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine", Sherlock said, harshly, while he was typing on his phone, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Sherlock looked out the window, "Even my damn brother is calling me to ask if I'm alright."

John cocked his eyebrow at Sherlock in disbelief, but sighed and nodded his head slowly, "Whatever you say, Sherlock, but even if nothing is wrong with you, you shouldn't take it out on people who care about you." Sherlock glared at John a mean, bored look. "I'm just saying", John mumbled quietly as he looked out the window.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days before the wedding

_Well, Molly, ole girl, you finally got your wish. You are finally having coffee with Sherlock Holmes. _The_ Sherlock Holmes. Not Sherlock Holmes, the paper doll Meena ironically made for you, but _the real_ Sherlock Holmes._

Molly Hopper had ducked out from last minute shopping with her future sister-in-law and best friends to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee, alone. She was flipping through _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ when a familiar, old, deep voice startled her, "Is this seat taken?"

"Oh, uh", Molly gasped out as she looked at the voice. It was Sherlock, staring at her with his intense gaze, waiting for her answer. "No", she said, trying to hide a smile as she peeked at her lap, "no, it's not." She heard the dragging of the wooden chair as he sat down, and as she was trying to build up some confidence to hold an actual conversation with Sherlock. "Are you stalking me now?" Molly said in a low cool voice, as she leaned towards Sherlock, "because, although I'm flattered, I am getting married in a few days."

Sherlock snorted in disgust as he crossed his arms across his chest, leaned back in his chair, and glanced at an imaginary figure behind Molly, "I was bored and in dire need of some coffee; and since John is at his"—Sherlock paused and said in repulsion, like it was bile—"_job_, I went out for coffee."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this place a little _far_ to just get some"—she quickly paused and then said in an American accent—"joe?"

"Ah, Molly, do I detect a hint of pleasure?"

"Of course not", Molly snapped, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from blushing, "I'm just", she said very quickly and then said slowly and gently, "a little surprised that somebody found me. I'm trying to hide from my friends, you see."

Sherlock snorted again, as he adjusted himself in the chair, "Your friends are idiots. They wouldn't be able to find you even if they had bloodhounds—and a map."

"Oh, of course", Molly muttered, rolling her eyes, "because you're so smart and everyone who's name is not 'Sherlock Holmes' is an idiot, blah, blah, blah", Molly huffed and then said in a tone that was between a hiss and a purr, as her insides turned to mush, "Could you please drop this 'I'm-better-than-everybody' act because, honestly, it's getting very tiring."

And, for the first time, Molly saw Sherlock blink. And not in the whole 'I should probably blink now or else someone might think something's wrong with me' sort of way, but because he didn't know what to do or say next. Molly sighed and casually closed her book, since she figured that she wasn't going to read it anytime soon. "_Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_?" Sherlock finally managed to say after a few moments of silence.

"Mm-hm", Molly said, nodding.

"I didn't know Pride and Prejudice needed zombies."

"Well, everything's better with zombies, y'know", Molly said as she glanced at the book, "Westerns...Queen...Halloween parties at a community college library."

Sherlock knotted his brows in confusion—another first for Molly—and said, "I'm afraid I don't get any of those references."

Molly smiled, sweetly, and said as she laid her hand towards him, "It's alright if you didn't", she then frowned, quickly took her hand back in shock, and said, nervously, "Ah, I read somewhere that you and John broke up a ring of child slavery. A few months ago right?" as she brushed the hair out of her eyes with her shaking hand.

"Oh yes", Sherlock said slowly, as he noticed her hand, "it was one of my brother's cases. Threatened me with a knighthood...again."

"Uh, well, 'Sir Sherlock' seems to fit you. It makes you seem like you're a knight of the round table."

"Well, I've always wanted to find the Holy Grail like Sir Galahad", Sherlock said dryly.

Molly smiled, "I didn't know you knew the Arthurian legends."

"So, how has the past year been for you?" he asked.

Molly was silent for a moment, shocked and stunned that Sherlock was asking her how her life has been. "Ah, fine, well, I got engaged", Molly slightly moved her ring finger that had her ten carat diamond engagement ring (it's a reflex!), "and I've been doing rather well...pretty good...at"—Molly paused as she thought and smile—"Sherlocking at work. It sometimes freaks out my co-workers."

"At least, I've rubbed off on _someone_", Sherlock said in a snobbish tone.

"Yeah", Molly said flatly and with a frown. It was silent for a few moments before Molly's eyes widened in alarm, "Oh", she yelped as she glanced at her watch, "I have to go", she stood up and pointed towards the exit, "Sorry", she mumbled as she gave him a meek smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Holmes", she said nodding, "It's been a—well, it's been. I hope you keep doing what you're doing. Goodbye." She turned and left.


	5. Chapter 5

If Molly Hooper had chosen St. Mary's Hospital to work at instead of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, none of this would have ever happened. Ah, but Molly knows never to argue with the wisdom of "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe", not again. The last time she questioned its wisdom, her face had broke out in hives because she chose strawberry ice cream instead of chocolate for her tenth birthday.

* * *

Molly Hopper does not know how she did it. She does not know how she was able to snatch a man like Alexander Oliversson. Alexander Oliversson: a _gorgeous_, wealthy, Swedish neurosurgeon with wavy golden hair, piercing blue eyes, big muscles, and creamy milky skin, who only has eyes for her, and was sweet, kind, and caring. Compared to Sherlock's scarecrow, Alexander is Molly's knight in shining armour.

When Molly figures out how she did it, she'll publish it in a book called, _'How to grab a gorgeous, rich, neurosurgeon'_. The only advice she could give to her best friends Meena and Caroline—after they assaulted her when she told them about Alexander—was to smile and laugh when he tells a good joke, make good conversation, and it doesn't hurt if you happen to be wearing heels and makeup during your shared shifts.

* * *

Molly has been in therapy for almost a year. The first four months or so she had a session every day to help her get through the whole Moriarty/Holmes affair. For the last seven months, Molly went to therapy once a week to get _over_ the affair. It also helped that toward the end of her first stage of therapy she met Alexander. Although she was apprehensive of pouring her soul to a stranger, Molly can sleep soundly through the night, be alone in a room without glimpsing over her shoulder at the slightest noise, and now wear red.


	6. Chapter 6

John was straightening a striped blue tie in the mirror as Sherlock entered the living room, "Rehearsal dinner tonight", Sherlock asked as he paced between the sofa and the door.

"Yupe", John quickly said as padded his blonde hair down.

"Do you know anything about this guy she's marrying?" Sherlock asked.

"Not really", John shrugged his shoulders as he brushed his hair with his fingers, "I know that he's a wealthy neurosurgeon at her hospital, he's thirty-three, and they had been dating for almost seven months before they became engaged." John pointed to a picture on the coffee table, "That's what he looks like."

Sherlock walked over to the coffee table and glanced down at the picture. In it was Molly and an attractive blonde fellow hugging and smiling in fount of what Sherlock assumed to be a movie theatre, "So, I had coffee with Molly today."

"And?" John asked with a worried face as he turned to face him.

Sherlock sighed heavily, "And... and I can't allow Molly to get marry."

John's face fell and then quickly recovered in anger as he quickly tackled Sherlock. John was on top of Sherlock, whose face was pushed up against the messy floor, "If you do that", John started as he grabbed Sherlock's hair, "I will kill you...I will _never_ forgive you...and Lestrade won't as well."

"Phfft", Sherlock snorted as he tried to adjust his face away from the dirty, crummy carpet, "why would I care if you and Lestrade don't forgive me if I'm dead?"

"It doesn't matter, does it?" John shouted furiously, as he tightened his grip on Sherlock's hair and slammed his face on the ground.

Sherlock grunted in pain, "Ah! Ow!"

"This is Molly's chance at happiness after almost three years of abuse and ploys from you...and—and Moriarty! I don't care if you're just doing this because you can't stand to have Molly go gaga over someone else or because you truly love her, but, if you like her, or whatever you want to call it, you will let this be. You will let her get married to Alexander and have a happy life! Is that clear?"

Sherlock said nothing, so John slammed his face into the floor again, "Yes?"

"Fine, fine!" Sherlock finally yelled, harshly, "Just get off of me before I have to cough up a fur ball."

"Alright", John sighed, as he got off Sherlock, and then helped him up. John cleared his throat as he straightened his tie again. "Fine, good", he turned back around to the mirror to straighten himself again.

Sherlock brushed off the fuzz from his suit and then said, "So", he grabbed a magazine from the coffee table and sat down in an armchair, "how has things been with Sarah?"

"Uh...fine", John said as he finished straightening his suit in the mirror. John sighed heavily in contempt and then said, "But she _has_ been talking about weddings a lot lately, which is a bit odd."

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow and secretly smirked smugly as he flipped through the magazine, "John...if you don't want to admit that I'm right, that's okay, but I am, y'know."

John sighed again and glanced at the clock, "I gotta go", John mumbled as he grabbed his coat and moved towards the door, "I have to swing by Sarah's place before I go to the restaurant"...

"Hm", Sherlock said preoccupied with the magazine.

"...There's still that lo mein in there from Wednesday, but I suppose it's good for another day", John muttered to Sherlock as he searched for his phone, "and we're out of milk so I'll stop and get some after the dinner"...

"Hm", Sherlock continued to say as he turned a page.

John found his phone and placed it in his coat pocket, "Alright, bye", John said as he glanced at Sherlock.

"'kay, bye", Sherlock said, still preoccupied with the magazine, as John nodded and left.


	7. Chapter 7

The Wedding

It was a small wedding. Molly would have been fine with going to the courthouse—in a nice dress, mind you—and getting married there, but, alas, the women in Molly's life (mother, mother-in-law, sisters-in-law, friends) insisted that she have, at the very least, a small wedding. Therefore, Molly had budge on that and allowed her mother to choose the Queen's Garden. Molly didn't really care _where_ she got married; she just wanted to get married.

In total, there were fifty people at the wedding. Molly's family and friends only made up less than half of the list, but she chose only people that were close to her. The wedding went off without a hitch. All of the guests were there on time, the groom and his groomsmen were all there, and Molly and her two bridesmaids were there. The sun was shining brightly, the birds were chirping, and the air was warm. Everything was rolling along smoothly.

At three-forty, Molly walked down the aisle in an ivory coloured strapless gown with beading that extended down into a chapel length train. At four o'clock in the afternoon, Molly Hopper became Mrs. Alexander Oliversson. "Hm", both John and Lestrade seemed to say at the same time as Molly and Alexander kissed and as everyone clapped, "I guess I didn't have to bring my gun in the first place."

After the ceremony, everybody was driven to a restaurant where everybody partied until eight that night. Later that night, after he had dropped Sarah off at her apartment, John came home to Sherlock, who probably had not moved from the couch, in his pajamas and robe.


	8. Chapter 8

When John woke up the next morning at eight, he felt strangely good. The sunlight was peering though the white blinds and lace curtain in John's bedroom and gently kissed him awake. "Hm", John moaned with a content smile on his face as he stretched to wake himself up. He got dressed and quietly went into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

"And where are you going today?" a deep voice asked him from the vicinity of the couch.

John placed the kettle on and said to Sherlock, "I learned a long time ago to never stay in my pajamas for long because you never know what's going to happen in the morning."

"Is this also why you carry a towel around with you?"

"Nope", John said as he plopped himself in a chair, "I learned that in the army."

"Of course", Sherlock said dryly, "So"...Sherlock started as he lightly clapped his hands together..."where are Molly and her new"—Sherlock paused and then spat out—"husband going on their honeymoon?"

"Oh, they're going to Rome on Flight 108 or something where Alexander's family owns a villa", John said as the kettle wailed. He stood up and grabbed a mug.

"Phfft, Rome, who needs Rome?" Sherlock said as he quickly rubbed his face with his cold hands.

"Well"...John started as his face broke into a goofy grin, "Rome _is _where the heart is." John broke into a riotous laugh as Sherlock loudly groaned and got up from the couch to the bathroom. "I thought it was funny", John mumbled to himself as Sherlock slammed the door shut.

When Sherlock came out of the bathroom he was dressed, which seemed odd to John, but he was glad that Sherlock finally took a bath. As Sherlock was plucking away on his violin, absentminded, with the news on, John heard a knock on the door. He opened the door and saw a large flat white box with a big red bow and a tag that said _'To Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street' _ in blocky, black letters on the doormat, "Look what you got, Sherlock", John said cheerfully as he picked up the box.

"Hm", Sherlock nodded slightly, but continued to stare ahead.

"Do you want me to open it?" John asked slowly, as he lightly touched the red bow.

"I don't care", Sherlock said, coolly, as he placed his violin under his chin and started to play the ending of the third movement of Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, rather harshly.

John knotted his brows in confusion and slightly in disgust as he untied the bow, carefully. He opened the box to find an ivory coloured wedding dress, "It's a dress", John said slowly, with his brows still knotted together, as he lifted the dress out of the box.

"A wedding dress. A Spring 2011 Impression wedding dress", Sherlock muttered as he stopped playing. "Worth about eight hundred pounds."

"Oh, wait", John said as he placed the dress over the chair, "there's something else in here", he took out a photograph. The photograph was of a bride and groom in embrace (the upper half of the photograph where their heads were was torn off). "Hm", John said as flipped over the photograph to see if there was anything written on the back. On the back, in black cursive, was _Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Oliversson; August 28, 2011-August 29, 2011._

John's eyes widened in fear as he threw the photograph on the ground. "Sher—Sherlock!" Sherlock glanced at John, "This is Molly's wedding dress!" John pointed to the dress and then faced Sherlock with a scared, bewildered look, "Why do we have her wedding dress!" Sherlock cocked his eyebrow in confusion, "The...the photograph! Their heads are bloody off! They're gone! They're gone! She's dead! Oh gawd!" John screamed fearfully as he shakily pointed to the photo on the ground.

The room became horrendously silent as both John and Sherlock stared at the photograph on the ground, their mouths both open in shock and confusion. The only noise in the whole world was the telly. The news blared,

_..."the talks are expected to continue into the next month as the leaders of both nations attempt to reach a compromise. Now back to our main story, the British Flight 108, from London to Rome, has crashed on the coast of the English Channel. As of right now, there doesn't seem to be any survivors. The authorities have ruled out any terrorist involvement and have not citied what had exactly caused the crash, but the most likely suspect is instrument failure"..._


End file.
